


Mika's Day Off

by atom2



Series: mika/kreids omegaverse au [1]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Gamer Problems, M/M, Nesting, Omega!Mika, Scenting, Texting, a very elaborate scene in which someone gets shampoo in their eyes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-21 05:21:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17636720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atom2/pseuds/atom2
Summary: Mika has a bad shower. He also goes into pre-heat.





	Mika's Day Off

**Author's Note:**

> uhhhhhhhhhh this fic was so overkill sorry it's 6k words LOL
> 
> i love mika so much and i've been so into omegaverse lately i had to whip this baby out.  
> inspired by the 132546334 days off from school i've had because of the polar vortex.

Chapped lips. Morning breath.

 

Mika’s eyes open simultaneously to these discoveries. His tongue swims around his mouth and he closes his eyes again, relishing in the comfort of his bed. The mattress that absorbs his weight; the pillow his head lays upon and the sink in its structure; the white duvet cover encapsulating him in a shell of warmth. He turns to his side, his cheek down and his arm tucked in, and he sighs. His body completely untenses. He drifts into a half-sleep once more.

 

Mika can stay in bed, for no alarm was the reason for his eyes opening. It would’ve have been a jolt, like someone creeping up behind as quietly as possible to scare their victim. The alarm is just a robot, though, it has no emotion behind its actions. Its command is to make noise, so it’ll make noise. It’ll force Mika’s eyes open and make him feel like he hasn’t slept in years, no matter how early he crashed the night before.

 

He’s so glad he doesn’t need to go anywhere today.

 

He meditates in his curled-up position, pulling in and letting go of deep breaths and imagining himself melting into his bed and just disappearing. Mika realizes he doesn’t like this position and turns to his other side, adjusting the covers accordingly so as to avoid being wrapped up by a soft, inanimate boa constrictor, but all it results in is frustration. He’s going to have to get up, now that he’s made himself uncomfortable. He turns himself to face the ceiling once more and rubs at his eyes with fists, emitting a wispy groan. Deciding to check his phone, Mika blindly reaches for it on the bedside table and struggles to reposition it with one hand, sliding it between his thumb and forefinger until it is oriented upright. When he presses the power button the time reads 8:03, but he skims past that and his silly lockscreen by unlocking it with his fingerprint.

 

He absentmindedly scrolls through Instagram and Twitter, liking and laughing, and comes to the conclusion that he should get out of bed. He sets his phone back down and pushes himself to a stand, taking some time to stretch before pocketing his phone. Mika exits the bedroom and sleepily shuffles his way through the living room and into the kitchen. He tries to think of what he wants to eat but realizes he isn’t very hungry after all, so he settles on a bottle of water waiting for him in the door of the fridge. After opening it, he takes a healthy sip and leans against the breakfast bar, hard marble digging into his side as he twists the cap back on.

 

A familiar burn creeps up Mika’s back, providing uncomfortable warmth and a twist in his gut. He winces, fidgeting in place and crinkling the plastic he’s holding when he tenses his hands. Mika’s body is reminding him his heat is approaching, something it’s been doing the past couple of days, only this is a sign of it becoming onset. It usually starts with a waning appetite and an increased sensitivity to an alpha’s touch, followed by what is happening now, at the start of the nesting period. A heat becomes water being kept warm on the back burner during nesting, and with stimulation, the knob on the stove is turned and the water starts to simmer. That’s when the insatiable horniess kicks in. When the water’s boiling, you’re either hot, sweaty, miserable, and lonely; or hot, sweaty, miserable, and receiving the knot of a lifetime. Either way, it all boils over, and when the mess is cleaned up, the waiting game starts again.

 

That reminds Mika he should probably get his day started with before everything catches up to him. He takes another, quicker, sip of water before abandoning the bottle on the counter and heading back into his bedroom for some fresh clothes. He clicks his tongue while running over what he’s going to be doing that day, skimming through different possibilities and just deciding on a sweatshirt and some training pants he knows he’ll be comfortable in.

 

The stack of clothing in hand, he enters the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Mika lets the clothes drop onto the floor with a little ‘plop’. He steps around them and parks at the sink counter, resting his hands and inspecting his face with little commitment, wondering if he should shave (no), or start doing a little more than just washing his face (he thinks he’s fine). He runs a hand through his hair, grimacing at the greasy residue his hand picks up, and he puzzles over how this could even happen, considering how frequently he showers.

 

The first step to Mika’s morning routine is birth control. He’s not mated, but he doesn’t really “get around”. Whatever he has going on with his alpha is… complicated.

 

It’s Kreids.

 

Kreids is loud and in charge like alphas are usually, but he has a lot of compassion. He’s an alpha that prioritizes his omega above all else, a great guy to keep you company. And that’s what their relationship has been so far. Mika can’t see himself calling Kreids his boyfriend or being officially marked and claimed by him, but in a way, they’re already there. There’s an inexplicable connection between them that allows Mika to just _know_ he’s Kreids’ omega. In a bros-only way. If bros could have pups with each other.

 

 _Fuck yeah, they can. But not now._ Mika keeps the tablet in his fist as he quickly retreats back to the kitchen to chase it with water.

 

He pops the pill and takes a drink, puffing out his cheeks before swallowing the water down. He drums his fingers on the counter, getting lost in thought while staring at the white and grey surface. He snaps out of it with a start and returns to his activities in the bathroom.

 

The tinge of heat comes again, but it ebbs away quickly once he starts moving. He shucks off his shirt, slips off his boxer briefs, and tosses them into the laundry basket beside the door. He sighs and presses his hand against the glass shower door, its temperature clashing with the comparative warmth of his skin. It slides all the way open, with some resistance from the slippery surface but only enough to slow it down. His handprint remains and he lifts his hand to erase it, but Mika knows it can only be smudged, so he leaves it.

 

The same contrast in temperature is experienced with the shower floor, icy on his bare feet. He shifts his balance from one foot to another, cursing at the cold shooting up with every step he takes. Twisting himself around, his heat-distributive marching paused, he slides the door closed. He decides to brave the tile tundra and switch on the water which, like the floor and the door, is cold as shit. Mika recoils, repeating “no, no, no, no, no,” and turns the faucet to the left to turn up the temperature.

 

The water’s not cold as shit now, it’s hot as shit.

 

Mika yelps and dodges the stream of water from the showerhead, which briefly burns his skin as he gets away. He reaches around and turns the faucet to the right now, testing the water with his hand. He plays with the adjustments for a bit, deciding if one extra twitch makes the water too hot or too cold. When he gets tired of finding the perfect temperature, he figures the one that’s just a bit warm for his liking will have to do, and steps underneath. It warms him nicely as it glides down his head, down his front and back and onto his arms as he works his hands through his hair to rinse it thoroughly.

 

Shower thoughts emerge; like the five songs he’s listened to on repeat before each game. Two manage to blend into each other, creating something that works, but something that he knows just isn’t right. It gives him a headache, so he wanders off to something else. He thinks about Hank the omega, oddly enough, and how much he’s sacrificed to have kids. Missing playing time to care for the one; two children on the way. It was a struggle the first time around; Mika imagines Hank waddling around his house in Sweden, his belly swollen with a pup as he bosses around his doula. Someone else had to assume the position of his alpha for eight hours of the day, a lifetime for a pregnant omega because the NHL’s paternity leave requirements at the time were minimal. And Hank struggled after the birth, too, even after his second when he was finally being paid. As soon as he was healthy and back to a regular pace of conditioning, Hank had to fly back to New York, away from his children. Everyone saw the depression like he wore it.

 

Mika had the story told to him because he wasn’t traded to the Rangers until 2016, but at the time he realized he should stay on the pill a while longer. Before, it was, “at least until I find an alpha”, now it’s “at least until my alpha and I are ready to almost completely abandon our hockey careers”. And Mika could do that, he guesses. He could commit to his music until he was ready to get back on the ice. PR, though, fucking PR would bring the bullshit once it was revealed he was carrying the pup of an alpha on _his team_ that he _hadn’t even bonded with_.

 

He reaches for the shampoo in the shower caddy, flicking the cap open and watching the thin swirls land on his palm. It’s a translucent sky blue that smells of freshness and nothing else, as close to unscented as possible. He lathers it in his hands, changing it to soapy white foam, and he moves his head out of the stream to massage the suds into his scalp. The pads of his fingers tense and release and he scratches around in circular motions, taking some time to squeeze out the excess shampoo. He goes back under the water, back facing the shower head this time, and rinses, making sure water gets to his hairline and other hard-to-reach areas. He’s about done when-

 

He gets the runoff in his eye. Then, both of his eyes. The sting is excruciating.

 

With his eyes wired shut from the pain, he flounders around for the door handle. The glass rattles in its metal track, creating a very loud and repetitive kuh-thunk that induces additional panic. He finds the handle and tugs it the wrong way the first two tries before finally sliding it open. Mika’s arms flail in the cold room, the rest of his body still in the shower, and he feels around in the general direction of the towel shelf. He knows he’s found it when he hears every plastic container on top of it come tumbling down. feeling around some more, he finds the plush towels and washcloths tucked inside the second level. He inspects the size of the cloth to make sure he isn’t wasting something huge on his _stupid_ eyes, but gives up and reaches for the faucet.

 

He hits tile first, but paws up and gets to the lever, cranking it as far as he can to the right. In an instant, the comforting stream becomes an icy blast, and Mika quickly and carefully backs away. goosebumps form on his skin now that he’s naked, blind, and vulnerable, with his only company the freezing cold water in front of him. He sticks the cloth into the water and he wrings it out, bringing it to his eyes. Its relief is gradual, a few goes proves successful, and he blinks a few times to refresh his vision.

 

Mika hangs the washcloth over the shower door and turns the water back to approximately its original temperature. He gives his hair one last rinse, extra careful this time to avoid another incident. After all that, he’s honestly too tired to try to appropriately wash himself, but he feels like he should be making good decisions today. He would rather be clean and comfortable in his nest than add to his current grime with whatever he’d be producing once his heat started.

 

He grabs his usual wash and applies it to his palm like his shampoo, and lathers it over his body. Usually, in this state, he’d use his scent-blocking wash, which masks not only his natural omega scent but also the universal heat scent with an intense peppermint. But since he’s spending the whole day at his apartment, he can afford to bypass it. He recalls when Kreids told him of his scent, because Mika had asked; strawberries. Mika smiles as he soaps up his shoulders. He’s never thought of himself as a strawberry guy, but it’s right up Kreids’ alley, who always seems to get, well, _nosy_ when they cuddle.

 

He figures he should invite Kreids over, considering the circumstances. He probably won’t get a satisfying fuck in because he’ll be popping suppressants for the duration of his heat. Having an alpha with him _would_ be really nice. Mika rinses his body off and he puts his head under the water one more time. He’s convinced himself his shower is done, and he turns off the water. He wrings out his hair and steps out, making sure to grab the washcloth hanging from the shower door before he closes it. He throws it in the laundry basket and grabs a couple of towels, using one to dry out his hair and the other his body, grimacing at all the dead skin the second one scrapes off.

 

He slips on underwear and his pants, tightening the pants at their tie in the front and stretching before pulling on his sweatshirt. He unfurls his stringy, wet hair from the collar and dries his hands on the towel hanging next to the sink. Realizing that his wet towels are still on the ground, he picks them up and puts them in the laundry basket as well.

 

Mika starts to crave some coffee while going back to retrieve his phone, so he completely bypasses it and the half empty bottle of water on the breakfast bar. He sets to making a mug, inserting the grounds and letting the machine do its thing. The heat’s back again, and Mika closes his eyes and inhales through his nostrils, letting it pass before exhaling.

 

 _I know,_ he thinks. _I know it’s coming, you don’t have to tell me._

 

The coffee is done promptly, so he ignores his body’s pleas for attention and grabs the mug, shuffling over carefully to the breakfast bar to avoid sloshing his drink everywhere.

 

He grabs a seat and takes a sip of his coffee, holding it in one hand while unlocking his phone with the other. After tapping the tab labelled ‘Kreids ✈’ in his contacts, Mika smiles at the previous conversation they had. He takes another sip and starts typing.

 

**come over**

It takes a minute, but Kreids responds.

 

  
**yeah I’m free, what’s up?**

**my heat.**

**is it like, serious?**

**no I’m barely nesting but I’d like you here just in case**

**you need a preliminary dicking**

**if it comes to that lo** **l**

  
**I’ll be there in 10**  
**make it 20 considering how the snow’s coming down**

  
Mika switches the phone screen off and puts it in his pocket, wanting to work on music while he’s waiting for Kreids. He drinks some more coffee as he stands up. He swipes the water bottle while he’s at it, figuring he’ll need something to drink when his mug is empty. Mika stops at the picture window off of the kitchen on his way to his office and looks out at the view. Kreids is right, soft flurries of snow are landing upon the city. From what he can see, the pavement already had a growing white layer, probably the reason for Kreids’ delay. NYC traffic was shit even without the snow.

 

His phone buzzes in his pocket. It’s a message from Kreids.

 

**I’m bringing surprises**

**surprises?**

**not what you’re thinking but you’ll like them**

**how do you know what I’m thinking**  
**don’t text and drive asshole**

 **just know**  
**I’m in my house**  
**leaving now**

 

Mika looks into the skyline again, the white sky pouring refreshing light into the apartment and casting Mika’s shadow onto the wood floor. He takes a departing sip of his coffee and turns on his heels back in the direction of his office. The heat makes itself known as he scoots across the living room, into the hallway leading to the other rooms of his house. He shoulders his office door open, crinkling the bottle tucked under his arm. The room is only illuminated by the light sifted through the blinds, which projects lines onto the carpeted floor.

 

While padding over to the window, he sets what he’s juggling in his arms on his desk, leaving the mug a short scoot in his wheeled chair away to avoid careless elbow-caused spills. He takes a quick peek through the blinds and, yep, it’s still snowing. A black blob of a person sweeps the sidewalk across the street, all bundled up for the cold. Mika’s glad he’s not them.

 

Most of the time he’s working at night and using the adrenaline of the last game to his advantage, so the blinds stay open. Though the sunlight is much brighter than the city lights scattered along the typical black sky, he prefers not to close the blinds this time. Once he puts on his headphones, he pays no mind to his surroundings anyway. There have been nights where he’s come home at 1:00 AM and stayed up until 6:00 because he lost track of time. Chugging a RedBull before practice didn’t stop him from missing literally all of his spots and getting a subtle “what the fuck?” talk from AV.

 

Mika sits down, scoots in, and puts on his headphones. He pulls his keyboard forward and gets to work.

 

-

 

He’s pulled the playhead to the beginning of the track too many times to count. He can’t really remember what the song was supposed to resemble at this point. Mika replays and replays and replays, then he sees his phone flashing in the corner of his eye. He diverts his eyes from his computer screen and tilts his head to look at his phone. Kreids messaged him again.

 

 **if you want me to come over you’re going to have to let me inside the building**  
**Mika please**  
**attention djzbad I need to get into your apartment**

**sorry I’m coming buzz it again**

  
Mika yanks his headphones off and rushes to the door buzzer, hearing its ring echo in his empty front room. He slides to a halt on the wood floor and presses the button to speak.

 

“Kreids?” he asks.

 

“You’re not getting anything from me if my dick freezes off,” Kreids replies, his voice mock-annoyed.

 

“Get your ass in here already.” Mika laughs, hits the button to unlock the door, and retreats back to his office to close his programs.

 

Mika’s perched on the arm of the couch, scrolling through his phone when he hears Kreids’ knock at the door. He stands and puts his phone away, approaching the door at a leisurely pace before opening it. There Kreids stands, beanie on and a bag hanging off his shoulder, an indication he’s planning on spending the night. Mika likes that idea.

 

“Hey, sorry I took forever,” Mika says, holding the door open to invite Kreids in. “I just get too in the zone sometimes. The music speaks to me.” He says that last part jokingly, adding something mystical to his delivery.

 

“Would you shut up?” Kreids asks playfully. He hangs up his coat on the rack next to the door and sets his bag down close to it. He squats down to unzip the bag and he fishes around, turning over a bunch of clothes. Mika looks on curiously. Kreids makes a face like he found what he wanted and pulls out a box, setting it on the floor underneath him. Kreids rezips the bag and stands back up, taking the box with him, Mika’s eyes following.

 

“Here’s part one of the surprise.” Kreids holds the box out to Mika, and Mika takes it, taking a moment to read it. It’s a 12-pack of the protein bars Mika’s been addicted to since Kreids introduced them, back during the first heat they spent together. The bars have turned into an essential, but he only accepts them when Kreids presents them as a gift.

 

“Hey, thanks,” Mika says, looking to the kitchen at the thought of putting them away. Krieds steps closer, a little farther into Mika’s personal space.

 

“Yeah, they didn’t have your favorite, so I got another one kinda close. They had all these like, pumpkin spice ones and stuff but I didn’t think you would like that.” Krieds puts a hand on the top of Mika’s head, combing his fingers through the long, dark hair and down to cup Mika’s cheek. “‘Barely nesting’, huh? You’re pretty warm.”

 

“I’ve been getting flashes all morning. I’m not feeling anxious, though.” Mika’s attracted to Kreids’ soothing touch like a magnet, closing his eyes and rubbing his cheek against Kreids’ hand. It’s rough, calloused, all the lines and bumps easily defined, but Mika hardly pays any attention to that. Kreids grins and rubs his face into Mika’s neck, bringing the hand from Mika’s cheek to his shoulder for more leverage as he scents him.

 

Mika indulges himself, taking in the rich cedar smell for as long as Kreids would like him to, showing his utmost submission and attachment. Kreids’ stubble scratches Mika’s neck, leaving an itchy red trail. Mika leans his head into Kreids’ and puts his arms around his shoulders, helping out with the support. Kreids thumbs circles into Mika’s shoulder and casts his deep exhales across Mika’s bared skin. They prefer little rituals like scenting as displays of companionship rather than actually marking each other since the more permanent ones seem too serious. They’re just in this to be together, for a piece to be filled. A warm glow swells their chests when they’re in each other’s presence.

 

“What’s part two of the surprise?” Mika asks once Kreids has decided he’s done enough. Kreids scratches at the corner of his eye, looks back to his bag, and back to Mika.

 

“Oh, I brought you a couple of my shirts, for your nest. But I’ll give them to you later, yeah? So I don’t accidentally trigger your nesting and throw you all out of whack.” Kreids talks with his hands while he explains himself, stuffing them in his pockets when he’s finished so he has something to occupy them with.

 

Mika turns around to the kitchen and Kreids follows, their conversation continuing.

 

“When have I ever been ‘out of whack’?” Mika giggles, sliding the box of protein bars across the kitchen counter. He props his elbows up and leans into the marble while looking contently at Kreids on the other side.

 

“ _You_ haven’t, I just don’t want to make _your heat_ out of whack.” Kreids mirrors Mika’s position, resting his chin in his fist.

 

“Okay, yeah, it’s that whole ‘if the process doesn’t occur naturally it’s going to be harder to manage it’ thing, right? This heat tracking app I have always has driven it into the ground.” Mika places his phone on the countertop and fidgets with it, light reflecting off the blank screen every time he spins it.

 

“Wait, don’t omegas just know when their heat comes?”

 

“Well, yeah, duh, but the app helps you keep track of like, patterns. Like I can put down if I used suppressants and if I ate burritos and it says, ‘oh, you didn’t take suppressants and you didn’t eat burritos this one time, so you probably only eat burritos during your heat when you’re on suppressants.”

 

Kreids stares blankly at Mika and tries to make sense of his long-winded response before asking, “Why would you ever need to keep track of burritos?”

 

“Oh my god, that’s not the point!” Mika facepalms and they both start laughing, avoiding eye contact with each other so they don’t crack up even more. Both Mika and Kreids scrunch up their face when they laugh, Mika making fun of how stupid Kreids sounds and Kreids laughing with him because yeah, he does sound like an idiot.

 

Once the room calms down and the silence turns awkward, Mika suggests they play some NHL to pass the time. Kreids concurs and they shift from the kitchen to the living room, Kreids trailing closely behind. Mika turns on the TV and Xbox under the watch of Kreids, who sits in his designated corner on the couch. Kreids is tucked right in with the throw pillows, and arm on the rest and the other resting on his thigh. Mika can only describe his position as “intense manspreading”. Mika grabs two controllers and tosses one Kreids’ way.

 

“Make the omega do everything, I see how it is.” Mika jokes, putting his controller on his corner on the couch, opposite to Kreids’. He goes into the kitchen to fetch something to drink and offers a drink to Kreids.

 

“Yeah, and look,” Kreids says. Mika turns his head to face the screen while opening the fridge and sees Kreids selecting the NHL 19 icon on the screen. Mika shakes his head and grabs two bottles of water, wondering if he should throw one at Kreids, but decides not to be a dick to him this once. He rounds the counter and vaults over the couch, holding a bottle out to Kreids while settling in.

 

“Mika why is everything in Swedish- oh, thanks.” Kreids sets the controller in his lap and takes the water bottle offered by Mika, twisting off the cap and taking a drink before setting it down on the coffee table in front of them.

 

“I dunno Kreids, maybe it’s because I speak it?” Mika takes the reins while Kreids is doing his thing, accepting all of the random game options that pop up in the loading screen.

 

“Well, please switch it to English so I can understand it!” Kreids says in a goofy, mocking voice, hunching himself over and glaring at Mika.

 

“Try to do it yourself,” Mika suggests through a smile, “maybe you’ll learn something.”

 

“Dickhead,” Kreids mutters. He squints at the screen, trying to will his mind to decipher the omega’s native language. Mika looks on while trying to hold back laughter at Kreids’ struggles, going into every setting menu possible and skimming over the language option. Kreids clenches his teeth and scratches his chin, voicing his considerations carefully, but each rock he picks up has nothing underneath. This is the worst game of hide and seek he’s ever played.

 

Mika starts to feel sorry for him, so he relieves Kreids of his task. “Here,” Mika directs the controller to the option labelled ‘språket’, and a list of languages appears on the screen for him to choose from. “I think you forgot to look there.”

 

“Because language doesn’t start with an ‘S’. That makes no sense.”

 

“You make no sense.”

 

“ _Your mom_ makes no sense.”

  
“Wow, Kreids, that’s harsh. I don’t know if I want to do this anymore.” Mika mocks uneasiness, but leans over and pokes Kreids in the ribs to get him going.

 

Kreids swats away Mika’s hand and it retreats back to the controller, where Mika finally switches the language back to English. They make eye contact for a second but look away to hide their amusement. From there, they make a “no more bullshit” pact and just play the game. After some deliberation, they drop into a 3-on-3 match but have to switch games a few times to avoid the occasional 12-year-old talking about dank memes, giving each other cringey looks each time. They’re just goofing around, but in some games, they actually get competitive, furiously clicking buttons and getting joke-aggravated when something bad happens. In one game, whoever’s supposed to be playing goaltender doesn’t move at all, so they have to play defense while the other team destroys them. Mika spams ‘block shot’ the whole time, frustrating Kreids who’s under the illusion he’s doing something more productive. But you can’t do much when lying parallel to the ground and harassing the other team into backtracking. Team Mika, Kreids, and the paralyzed goalie lose 10-0.

 

Mika’s hands get a mind of their own while they’re in the middle of a game, and start shaking. Mika takes hardly any notice to it at all, more focused on what’s happening on the screen. Discomfort springs upon him next, and he tries adjusting his positioning to see if it’s the problem. He extends his legs over to the ottoman. He swings his legs to the side. He full out lays down on the couch. Nothing works. His clothes become lined with sandpaper and are almost suffocatingly tight, Mika tugging at his collar and scrunching up his nose at how every point of friction sens uneasiness through him. The bright whites on the TV screen burns the backs of his eyes, making him squint reflexively. He looks to the floor and curses under his breath through the tears. He clenches his hands around the controller as an act to resist the shaking, but he only hurts himself, knuckles straining white.

 

_I can’t be here, I have to go I have to go I have to go I have to go_

 

Kreids takes notice, breaking his gaze from the TV to see what Mika is on about. Kreids’ eyes widen in shock at the state of his omega. Though he isn’t aware of Mika’s other symptoms, he’s troubled by Mika’s shaking. Anxiousness and a feeling of displacement are a sure sign of nesting. Kreids’ priorities shift to help his omega now, and nothing else. He quickly pauses the game and drops his controller, Mika looking at him inquisitively. Krieds grabs Mika’s hands, the controller still held, and the plastic clicks and quakes even with Kreids’ attempt to quell the shaking.

 

Mika furrows his brow at the state of his hands and looks back to Kreids with vulnerable eyes.

 

“I know, it’s nesting. I… I should probably go.” He turns his head to look at the bedroom like he needs to get there urgently or else he’ll miss something. His look to Kreids asks for guidance. He’s asking Kreids for permission.

 

“Go, yeah, go. I’ll take care of all this,” Kreids gestures to the TV. “but let me get those shirts for you.”

 

Kreids pushes himself off the couch and jogs over to his bag, Mika twisting his body to watch. He sifts through his change of clothes for the next day and extracts the two designated shirts, two he doesn’t really wear that much, but are still plenty saturated with his scent for Mika’s sake. He disregards how he left his bag wide open, too intent on returning to Mika.

 

Mika’s eyes are still on Kreids when he returns, his anxiety now channeling through a rapidly bouncing leg. He had changed his position on the couch while waiting for Kreids in preparation to get up and go. Mika snatches the clothes from Kreids’ hand when they’re offered and tumbles to a stand, outstretching both of his arms to regain balance. His socked feet get little traction on the floor, sliding down the hallway and stopping at the door of his bedroom where carpet meets wood. He clutches Kreid’s shirts tight to his chest as he closes the door behind him, looking to find a place to begin.

 

Mika has a place in his closet for all the things he needs for his nest, ultra-comfortable blankets and pillows, some comfort items that smell of Kreids, and a small stash of toys if need be. He hasn’t needed to use the toys often, since nowadays he’s either with Kreids or on suppressants during his heat. They serve their purpose in emergency situations only. He starts with his clothing, tossing his phone from his pocket onto the bed. When he strips off his sweatshirt, he finds immediate relief in the cool air that meets his skin. He folds it and keeps it on the ground while he takes off his socks, pants, and underwear, organizing them accordingly. Mika decides to just put them back where he usually stores them, since anything out of place would depersonalize his nest.

 

While he has the closet open, Mika delves into the pile of nest supplies and pulls out the additional blankets and pillows, two each. He cocks his head and puzzles over their arrangement for a moment before setting the stack down on the floor and picking up the pillows. He kneels on the bed to place them both horizontally, one beside the other. He kneads them with his hands briefly, hands wrinkling the clean, white covers and easily manipulating their softness into a shape of his invention.

 

Next come the blankets, which he drapes over his original bedding one at a time. He gives allowance to the haphazard placement, as he’s probably going to move them once he gets settled. Mika goes back to the closet in search of his comfort items; all shirts; which he finds stacked lovingly underneath where the blankets and pillows once sat. He turns them over in his hands, studying their different colors and mulling over each texture. The new ones will be perfect additions to his collection. Before he can get too far ahead of himself, he takes a look at the nest to see if anything extra is needed. It’s perfect, as far as he can tell. A perfect amount of disarray. He places the shirts on the bed and goes to the window. It’s mid-afternoon now, with the sun is setting earlier because of how quickly winter is approaching. Still, he shuts the blinds, preferring the dim light of a lamp on his bedside table. When he flicks the light on, it provides something much warmer than the snowy day can.

 

Mika goes to the door, hand hesitating on the knob. Once again, he looks at all the arrangements he’s made, wondering if they’ll be suitable for him and his alpha. He nods, he thinks so. He twists the knob and leaves the door ajar, a private invitation for Kreids to enter. Meanwhile, Mika settles himself in their nest. He wraps one of the blankets, a thick, grey woven one, around himself and curls up into the den of pillows he’s made. He prods at them lightly with his shoulder until he realizes he doesn’t have Kreids’ shirts in his vicinity. He stretches to the foot of the bed, grabbing one before getting in his cocoon again. He nuzzles the fabric he’s holding, which smells so beautifully of Kreids; the one scent that makes him feel at home.

 

The door opens, but Mika remains, even as the stronger, truer scent of Kreids fills the air. As an alpha, Kreids reacts to the nesting phase too, though his experiences are not nearly as intense. His scent envelops his surroundings with the intent of completely absorbing his omega with safety, protection, and claim. Kreids is always touched by the sight of Mika cozy in what he’s made for them, waiting patiently for him to join.

 

“Mika,” Kreids whispers, and Mika looks up just so his eyes peek out from under the blanket. “Are you okay, now?”

 

Mika nods and puts his head back down when Kreids gives him a thumbs-up. He hears rustling; most likely Kreids taking off his clothing, and the door opens again, closing with only a sliver left open. Footsteps go down the hall and disappear, and Mika assumes Kreids is putting his clothes somewhere else in regards to the neatness Mika would like to maintain. The door opens again and closes all the way this time with a gentle ‘click’. The weight of the bed shifts to Mika’s left and the covers around him lift, Kreids sliding in and completing everything. He scoots as close to Mika as possible so Mika doesn’t have to reposition himself too much. His efforts go to waste anyway and Mika shifts, latching on to Kreids’ chest. Kreids puts an arm around Mika’s shoulders, using his hand to pet Mika’s hair.

 

“You’re purring for me, Mika, you know what the league’s going to say about this.” Kreids hums, almost as quietly as his omega’s satisfaction.

 

“I’m going to purr for you on Hockey Is For Everyone night and have it broadcast on TVs across New York,” Mika replies, trying to get more of Kreids’ scent by burying his face into the crook of his neck.

 

“You do that practically every night, remember?” And Kreids is right, Mika can recall several instances where he has thrown himself all over Kreids in front of thousands of fans after a win.

 

“You got me there.”

 

The heat comes in a full-body wave now, and Mika takes it like a devastating blow. It’s so dry, like an intense head-to-toe fever. Mika makes a soft groan as he feels slick start to accumulate, his body starting to prepare itself. His dick twitches at every inhale he takes, with Kreids’ scent so close and so powerful. He has to restrain himself from grinding right into Kreids’ hip, choosing instead to turn his body to face the mattress, subtly rutting against it. The scent of Mika’s heat hits Kreids, who also hears Mika’s muffled whimpers. A need forms in Kreids’ gut; he wants to stop Mika, do all this for him. He wants to see Mika laid out so beautifully, sweaty and needy, begging for his knot. He wants to fill Mika with so many pups.

 

“Do you need it right now, Mika?” Kreids whispers, his mouth right against Mika’s ear, his warm breath driving Mika insane. Mika nods, tightening his grip around Kreids as he continues to rut against the mattress. He needs whatever it is; more friction, more touch, more of Kreids, Kreids inside of him.

 

“Don’t worry,” Kreids says, holding Mika still in both arms, ready to flip him onto his back. “I’ve got you.”

**Author's Note:**

> grammarly fucked my shit up. if grammarly fucked /your/ shit up, call now.


End file.
